 What's up guys, this is Theron and tonight we're taking another dive into the para-watch wiki Tonight's thread was started by user Yero William on June 21st 2015. It's called whitetail Let's begin There's a place in the forest by my town where the deer don't die Time and time again hunters talk about it eyes full of darting half-lidded suspicion a Stretch of roadside south the town around the Appalachians, but not quite in them where the hunters don't go You'll hear stories about it if you listen long enough Rambling tales of deer that keep on living when shot through the heart the head splattered on the windshield of a car shrugging it off and darting back into the forest Trappers never seem to catch their quarry there and the number of times I've seen a car viewer off the road in the last 20 years Faced with something that didn't seem to catch the headlights quite right. I can't count on one hand. I Never believed it though Particularly rough patch of forest where the animals are healthier than the weak Stick-legged things that walk along wherever humans have gone by Then black ice on the road reflecting starlight to go where it shouldn't They'll blame it on the Indians, but these folk blame them for all sorts of things never actually go and look That's where my uncle differed He was a savvy hunter and a taxidermist too Never really believed in those things His garage was full of trophies some of them half completed and whenever someone said he couldn't do something He took it as a challenge He caught one of the stories and one day made it a goal of his to get one of those deer and bring back Its head in the bed of his pickup We drove there one night and his old beat-up of a dodged Dakota. I was the spotter in the back Hit his drink told him where to stop It felt strange something by a roadside and most people just drive past Out of staters usually took this route eyes on the road in front of them On the ground below me were pebbles of all sizes Tire worn dusted with the black coating of rubber that you see on these older stretches of road Forest was thick but didn't look unusual to my eyes There was a smell though Barely noticeable through the doors of the car. It's still pervaded A stench seemingly wafting out of the wall of trees to the east and over the asphalt If my uncle noticed it he didn't say Something was dead nearby was my first thought Too sour for that a part of my brain told me. I Started to speak up, but a grunt from my uncle told me to keep my mouth shut He disappeared in the forest, and it was an agonizing 15 minutes before he came back out again slightly agitated I found something he said tracks big ins too He ushered me to follow him, and I did over roots and sumac. I Didn't know what to look for. I could carry a gun, but I couldn't track Soon though clear as day. I saw them My uncle's flashlight darted across the forest floor Illuminating depressions in the soft earth cut deep enough to lay a finger in pulled with water from the recent rain They leaned along and skinny close together, but far from front to hind and something had dragged along in the dirt to the side of them Leaving a wavy trail The spore was wrong in a way. I couldn't pinpoint Uncle identified it though Hoops weren't splayed the deer was lighter on its feet than any this size ought to be It moved quickly to given the density of the underbrush Starving he said it was probably too sick to move properly. He didn't buy it. I Grip my rifle more tightly as we continued on The track stayed prominent hours sinking much deeper into the mud The sense was hard to ignore now although my uncle was indisposed to mention it It had gained a tinge of sweetness somehow like burning honey mixed with sewage water dripped Our stakeout spot was unwieldy in the lower branches of a stout white oak My uncle's breath heaved hot on my neck as we watched A sick deer couldn't travel far he reasoned and the head in bragging rights would be worth more than any meat it lacked Long minutes passed the hidden moon failing to give any indication of the time I was about to try and persuade him to call it quits when something moved My uncle holding the rifle didn't hesitate to shoot A low dark shot rang out and whatever had been moving stopped Quickly uncle dismounted the branch and started walking Wherever it was it was distant and the flashlight beam didn't penetrate the low branches The stench was overpowering now It seemed to come from nowhere in particular, but the air was warm and still Holding my breath. I continued after him In moments the flashlight hit something and uncle stopped A dark figure lain over in the ground cover as if injured sat at the edges of the flashlight's beam It somehow was still shown in silhouette as if the flashlight hadn't touched it One eye gleamed the other shot through with a bullet And the point where its antlers stopped and the branches began wasn't clear It breathed slowly steadily In a careful practice almost deliberate fashion The thing that was not a deer got up Turned backward and started walking away My uncle was silent quick to follow At that moment the forest seemed to melt around me as I ran Sharp thorns and branches blocked my way where uncle steps were swift The flashlight in his hands waving wildly I gave chase now acutely aware of my lack of gun And managed to follow him into a small clearing A place devoid of trees where a creek must have once flowed His flashlight tilted up and I stopped in my tracks The deer stood before us gazing intently The right half of its face was caved in and from the wound antlers grew Extending up and into the branches above it They billowed thick and gnarled like frozen smoke Around it from either side heads of deer hung like trophies And crusted down to the eyes in the same dark material Not quite catching the light I stood delirious with the smell under a canopy covered in the stuff Hard, finely twisted antlers gnarled together into great burls Half forming the shapes of heads or hooves Uncle turned my way looking back to me smiling You look sick What's wrong? It's only a deer I bolted wild through the night And woke up sometime later by the side of the road surrounded by paramedics My memories for the next few weeks were fuzzy Full of hospital rooms and doctors and tubes Suicide, they said Evidence was found in a nearby section of the forest Chugs of brain matter splattered by gunshot on nearby trees A flashlight and some clothes A couple scattered bones As for his body, they said the scavengers must have come after it My name was clear quickly enough as it went As they learned what was inside of my head Some kind of poison, biological in nature Neurotoxic Said I was lucky I came out with only minor brain damage Only thing that saved me was that I was found unconscious on the roadside Days before his estimated time of death I sometimes hallucinate now Sing antlers, trees, hearing the clicks of hooves They blame it on the brain damage But these folks blame that for all sorts of things Never bothering to go and look On warmer days, through the humidity and the still, heavy air A smell sometimes wafts into my yard from the south A sweet smell, like honey Like taxidermy in a rot That still, in that direction My uncle awaits Among the crown of horns I take up the scent deeply now As repulsive as it once was And know, quietly in my heart That my uncle did not die Shit, guys, that's something Do you think that's real? Or is just this guy's brain damage? Leave your answer in the comments below Subscribe and hit the bell And I'll see you next time